Ephraim
by bowhuntress
Summary: After accidentally using a portkey intended for death eaters, Hermione finds a beaten Draco Malfoy prisoner of his own house. Wanting revenge for his murdered parents, Draco escapes with her. After some events take place, they must work together in order to achieve the Ephraim spell, that could destroy the dark lord once and for all. Set after 6th year and during 7th. Slow Dramione
1. The night and the portkey

**Hello dear readers; may you be newcomers or fanfiction veterans. I have fought the war against the blank page syndrome and finally decided against procrastinating. I offer you my first fanfic, and against the protests of my Ronmione shipper friends, I made it a Dramione one. Please read and review, it'll be a pleasure to hear from you.**

 **Bowhuntress**

 **About the story: After accidentally using a portkey intended for death eaters, Hermione finds a beaten Draco Malfoy prisoner of his own home. Wanting revenge for his murdered parents and particularly for his mother, Draco escapes with his Gryffindor enemy. After a series of event, they must work together in order to achieve one of the most powerful spell ever created, one that could destroy the dark lord once and for all.**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter franchise, its brilliant plotline or its characters.**

 **Ephraim**

Chapter one – The night and the portkey

Hermione's POV

Hermione ignored the wretched sensation she felt in the bottom of her stomach and lowered her wand. The spell was painless for the victim but the caster, as the young witch learned, could be burdened with guilt. A guilt she was experiencing at that point as she exited her old family house with her magical purse and her wand in her pocket. The " _obliviate_ " she had casted was powerful enough to wipe all the memories her parents ever had of her. They would not remember she was born, or that one particular day her first tooth had fallen, nor the one when she had learned she was a witch. To them, they would only be Mr. and Mrs. Granger, no kids in counting. But Hermione would remember. She would carry on the legacy she had burdened herself with on that precise day when she had pronounced the spell that would mark her new life. She closed the door and took one last look around the quaint, aging neighbourhood where she had spent most of her childhood: The park at the end of the street where she use to play on the swing, the middle school she use to go to and her own house, a sight she couldn't forget even if she wanted to. With a sigh she turned around and started walking down the street, in search for a spot where she could disapparate away without being seen by curious muggles. Her plan was simple, get to Harry and Ron in time for the marriage, then go horcruxe hunting to destroy He-who-must-not-be-named; Voldemort she chastised herself. She was not afraid of his name. Night was well settled around her and the cold seeped under her light clothes. She wrapped her jacket tighter around herself and walked faster.

When at last she found a place where she could use her magic freely, it was well after midnight and her breath was creating small clouds in the cold English streets. She checked in her bag one last time, creating light with a simple " _lumos_ " when she overheard voices. Not the typical "two muggles chatting and walking down the street" voices but "two people plotting to commit a murder tonight" type of voices in the dark. Hermione scurried off and hid behind a brick wall at the corner of the street, long years of mystery solving in Hogwarts to thank for her stealth.

\- But the master said we must be back by the morning. whispered the first distinct voice of a man.

\- Yes I know that, you fool, but if we don't do this, he'll be even angrier at us. Do you really want to end up like the blond brat? Another manly voice hissed in the darkness, seemingly berating his companion for his stupidity.

\- No, of course I don't want to finish like the Malfoy traitor. Replied the first mystery man.

Hermione couldn't help but wonder about Malfoy. Were they talking about the one she had despised for the six previous years? Or about his parents, she knew to be death eaters and Voldemort's followers? Last she had heard about the blond Slytherin git, he had been in the astronomy tower and had tried to kill Dumbledore. A task he had failed, and the murder had befallen on professor Snape, from what Harry had told her. But what was the link between the two men in the darkness and Malfoy, she asked herself. Who were they? She cursed at her inability to see the two strangers, obviously wizards that were standing at the other side of the red brick wall. She was shaken out of her thoughts as she heard a _clank_ , as if a heavy, metallic object had been dropped on the cobblestones.

\- There, said the first man, it's done. Now can we go before we're tortured repeatedly for being late?

The second wizard sighed and replied patronizingly.

\- Yes you dumb idiot. Now we can go. See, it didn't take so long. Now, in a couple of minutes, our guys from Liverpool will apparate here and then will join us back at headquarters. The dark lord will be pleased to hear we have accomplished our mission.

A cold sweat ran down Hermione's spine. They were death eaters, working on Voldemort's account. And from what she had just heard, they were plotting a plan on this very street. It being so close to her house, to her hometown, made her feel queasy. She had her suspicions on the identity of the two men when they had talked about Malfoy, but now it had been confirmed and it was clear that those two were dangerous. The two men moved around for a couple more minutes in complete silence and more questions popped in Hermione's mind. She stayed put, hidden from the view, alone in the cold. There was a strange whooshing sound, telling her they had apparated away, and then all she heard was silence. She looked around. The sun had risen, and the first morning lights shone over the pink early July skies. _Great_ , Hermione thought. _I'm late_.

Hermione moved her head to the side so she could survey the street rapidly. Deeming it safe to remove herself from the corner of brick wall where she had hid during those few minutes, the young witch ran to the spot where the suspicious wizards had been standing. Nothing. The Gryffindor sighed. Maybe they had just talked, maybe nothing had happened. She turned around, prepared to finally disapparate and tell Harry and Ron about that close encounter, when her right foot connected with something solid, making her wince in pain. She looked down, ready to curse that blasted object. It was a hydrant, only not a very normal hydrant. Hermione swore it hadn't been there earlier when she had walked by. She knew a bit about muggle regulations for firemen and hydrants. This one was too close to the next one. It was either misplaced or… She recalled the clanking sound she had earlier heard. Why would two hasty death eaters drop a water hydrant in a muggle street? She took out her wand and hesitantly tapped against it, trying to obtain a reaction. Maybe it was a cursed object. She checked it for spells just in precaution. Nothing. Her fingers ghosted against the cold material and she felt something in the pit of her stomach. Another swooshing sound was heard and in the early hours of the summer morning, about five men, draped in black cloaks appeared before her. Suddenly the pulling sensation was stronger. Surprised by the horde of what she identified as death eaters, she stumbled forward and her entire hand fell on the hydrant. The tugging sensation was stronger than ever and she realised that not only was the hydrant a portkey, it was also not meant for her. Hermione barely had time to grip her purse tightly and throw her wand in. The men drew out wands and one of them shouted something like: _Get her!_ The last thing she heard before being transported God knew where was the many curses being shot at her.

Hermione had taken a portkey only once before, in her fourth year, while going at the world quidditch cup. She remembered it was not a pleasant sensation. It was just as uncomfortable that time. Firstly and mostly because Hermione had no idea of where she would land. A thing she had a good idea about though, was that there were going to be death eaters and very possibly a dark lord present for her arrival. She felt just like her whole body was twisting around, and she remembered all of Mr. Weasley's earlier tips about how to land: mentally prepare by visualizing the place where you would step foot. _Well_ , Hermione thought sarcastically. _Like that's going to be easy._ The tugging and quite annoying feeling anchoring her body to the hydrant finally vanished and the young witch found herself free falling in some kind of void. She closed her eyes in fright, only reopening them as she hit the floor, badly falling on her hip and right shoulder. She hissed at the throbbing pain, but otherwise was quick to pull herself on her feet. As she took in her surrounding, Hermione realised she was in some kind of wealthy house. The walls richly decorated, a crystal chandelier hoisted high and dangling over her, the old, yet clean carpet underneath her feet; everything screamed wealthy pureblood family house. She was admiring the artwork of the fireplace when she heard footsteps nearing the door. She finally remembered that she was in fact standing in the possible location of Voldemort's headquarters. Panicking, she ran out of the closest open door and ran again in the seemingly endless hallways of the house.

She ran until she couldn't anymore, the piercing pain on her hip and shoulder slowing down her pace. She was standing in front of a dark staircase. Renewed footsteps were sounding in the corridor and some shouting ensued, as a death eater alerted his comrades of the unwanted presence wandering around. Hermione, being considered the brightest witch of her age, weighed on the options unravelling to her. She could turn around and find an open room, but the chances she would come face to face with an enemy were increased, or she could take those stairs, where she wasn't hearing any sound, and hope to find a way out. She had tried twice to escape by disapparating, but like in Hogwarts, it didn't seem to work the slightest. She finally chose to take the uneven and cold stairs, where an uncertain future would take a turn for better or for worst.

 **There, the first chapter. Sorry for no Draco, but I swear we'll get to see our blond slytherin in the next chapter. Please review!**


	2. The boy and the dungeon

**Welcome back readers. Congratulations, for you are the few that made it as far as the chapter two. For those wondering where one Draco Malfoy was in the first one, well, here he is in the second. I would also like to announce that there will be some chapters, or some parts of them, that will be written in Harry or Ron's POV. I will also like to point out that Hermione and Draco, even if they will grow to like each other later, will not be in a loving relationship from the start. So be patient dear readers, and excuse my overgrown author's note.**

 **Disclaimer: I do not nor will I ever own Harry Potter.**

 **Ephraim**

Chapter two - The boy and the dungeon

Hermione's POV

The first thing that she noticed was that however cold it was in the stairs, it was nothing compared to the temperature down there. The whole room felt like hell just froze. She first encountered a metal gate with vertical metal bars. It reminded Hermione of the old prison cell block she once visited with her elementary school. With a quick spell, the gate unlocked and the witch all but threw herself in. It was dark, and even then could she see she was standing in a barren hallway. That corridor, she realised, led to multiple cells closed with the same metal bars as the principal door. The Gryffindor had accidentally stumbled upon the house's dungeon. Her jacket was not warm enough to keep her body temperature high and she shivered, uncomfortably cooled off. _Typical_ , she thought to herself, _for death eaters to put innocent people in a room where they could possibly die of hypothermia._ Hermione stopped walking and listened, close to the gate, for any sign one of Voldemort disciple would have followed her. Nothing. They probably didn't expect a stranger to just throw themselves in the prison block. She let out a long, tired sigh. She had been supposed to spend the night at Ron's place. Oh God! Harry and Ron were going to kill her if she didn't die there. They must have been worried out of their mind. She winced as her breathing hurt her now bruising shoulder and ribs. Surely she'd have time later to heal them but then, her priority was getting out of there, quickly. She concentrated on the puffs her breath made instead of the pain she felt all over and calmed down. She was Hermione Granger. Surely she could get out of this uncomfortable situation.

Ready to be more reasonable and ready to escape once more, the young Gryffindor witch moved swiftly towards the end of the hallway. Perhaps there was a door, some stairs; something that would help her get away. She still had no bloody idea about where she was. Once she reached the end of the freezing corridor, she was met with nothing more than a meek stony wall. Frustrated, she kicked it with an unsatisfied half scream of despair. She was stuck in an impasse. She couldn't go back up by fear of getting caught, but she couldn't stay down here forever. And now her right foot hurt more than it did before. She let out a frustrated half sob, tears welling in her eyes.

\- You know, kicking that poor wall is not going to help you in any way Granger. A voice drawled out.

No way. She backtracked and this time, took careful precaution of looking inside the cells as she passed them. In the second cell on her right she found, sitting there sullenly, one Draco Malfoy.

There was no way it wasn't him. He was quite easy to recognise because of his hair: There was blond, there was very blond and then there was Malfoy. Her Slytherin schoolmate had his back against the wall, knees drawn to the chest presumably to keep warmer in the subarctic temperature reigning in the dungeon. He had obviously seen better days, his pale skin even paler than usual, making the bags under his eyes stick out.

\- Malfoy? She managed to let out.

\- Who else Granger? He smirked at her and Hermione couldn't help but feel annoyed at his arrogance.

\- What in Merlin's beard are you doing here Malfoy?

\- Can't you see I'm taking vacations? He stood up and came to lean on the other side of the cell door, arms crossed over his chest. The real question is: What is a muggleborn like you doing in a nest of death eaters?

He had grown taller over a couple of months, towering over her with his eyebrows raised. Looking closer she realised he had fading bruised on his neck like somebody had tried to strangle him, and some new ones on his cheekbones and near his eyes. He sported a split lip, who otherwise were chapped, cracked and blueish because of the cold. She noticed the lack of use of the _Mudblood_ term.

\- I accidently took a portkey. She mumbled. She didn't know what had pushed her to answer the other teen.

A look of disbelief had befallen Malfoy's features and he burst laughing. It was a deep laugh and Hermione really did not understand why it was so funny.

\- Trust one of Potty's friend for getting herself in trouble in the middle of the summer.

At that Hermione had to smile. Funny, how she didn't think he could have a decent sense of humour.

\- Seriously Malfoy. What are you doing in this frozen hellhole?

Malfoy's smirk fell and his eyes scrutinized Hermione's, perhaps in search for some kind of trick to fool him. That's when Hermione noticed something.

\- Malfoy, not to be out of term or anything, but… Weren't you a death eater?

She pointed down at his left arm. The Slytherin was wearing a worn out, simple white and slightly overgrown tee, stained at some places with blood. Where there once stood a dark mark on his arm was then scarred, angry red flesh, like somebody had scraped off the skin with a butter knife. Unknowingly, Draco's right hand came to rub the spot, eyes scrunching up to form a grimace. It was unlike him to show that much emotion.

\- Yeah, well, not anymore.

\- Is that why you're standing alone in freezing cell?

Malfoy shot an unconvincing glare at his schoolmate, trying to look intimidating. Truth was, he looked like he was in dire need of medical help, a good meal and some rest. Hermione found herself almost pitying the boy. _Almost_. She reminded herself that if he was in this position, it was mainly his own fault. Of course, the fact that he had taunted her, cursed at her friend and called her a mudblood did help the feeling of utter antipathy she felt for him. Yet Hermione was human. She was incapable of not feeling a twinge of sympathy for Draco Malfoy.

Both of them stood there, lost in their thoughts. Surprisingly, it was Malfoy who broke the silence.

\- They excommunicated me. His voice was barely a whisper, and his grey eyes stared in the distance. Never felt a pain like that in my life. It was because I was incapable of killing Dumbledore, see. Even Snape couldn't do a thing about it. He turned his gaze back to the Gryffindor. I've been down here since the headmaster's death.

Hermione was flabbergasted.

\- They excommunicated you and locked you down here, just because you made a mistake?

\- There is no pity amongst the death eater's order, Granger. There is no place for weakness either.

Well. Not that Hermione would tell him, but not killing Dumbledore, lowering his wand, as Harry had put it, was one of the very few things Malfoy did that she considered brave and strong.

Interrupting her train of thoughts, there was a loud bang! erupting from upstairs, followed by a loud shout.

\- I swear! I don't know where he is! We searched the whole house! The first voice was panicked.

The second shook Hermione's heart to its foundations.

\- Well, your incompetence has costed us a great deal of time. Now we'll just have to search it again.

Voldemort.

\- I'm sorry my lord! I… I will do better!

\- No, you will not. _Avada kedavra_.

The sound of a body tumbling sounded and Hermione led her hands to her mouth as she let out a gasp. Malfoy just closed his eyes.

\- Malfoy. Hermione turned around. I'm getting out of here. Come with me.

The steely grey eyes stared at her from up, where he watched her intently.

\- I…

Bang! The dungeon's door slammed open.


	3. The blood and the snow

**Okay, so I know that my chapters are not very long, yet cooperate with me here. I present you my third chapter.**

 **Warning for language and not too graphic violence and torture.**

 **Ephraim**

Chapter three – the blood and the snow

Harry's POV

What remained of the order sat around the table. The wedding was to be the next day, yet the mood in general was weighing down on everybody. Moody was dead, George had hurt his ear but worst of all, Hermione hadn't showed up. The fact that they didn't know of her whereabouts was the worst. She was supposed to join them directly the day before, to take part in the mission to get Harry to safety. They had waited for a couple of minutes before, at Moody's command, they left. Well, it had taken the whole strength of Hagrid to get Harry to leave.

Ron wasn't doing so fine, and Harry neither. For all they knew, Hermione could have been intercepted by death eaters, and could be tortured or killed by Voldemort, just because she was his friend. He had dreamt of her being under the cruciatus spell so long she didn't even recognise him.

He didn't know how close to reality he was.

Hermione's POV

Hermione managed to throw her wand at Malfoy through the bars just as the door slammed open by its own will. It was a risky move but it was trust Malfoy or they would take her wand. She was no fool, she might be bright but she certainly was not strong enough to battle many dark wizards at once, certainly not it the state she was in at that point. Malfoy went back to his corner and hid the wand behind one of the moving bricks creating the cell. What Hermione saw through that door would haunt her dreams forever. Voldemort, Bellatrix Lestrange and Fenrir Greyback, backed up with some other death eaters walked in. The wolfish smile Bellatrix gave her made her heart jump and unconsciously reach for her wand in her pocket.

\- My lord that is Harry Potter's mudblood bitch. The mad witch whispered in the dark lord's ear, the simple words making the Gryffindor wince.

\- Interesting. Mrs. Granger, I believe?

Hermione was too frozen to even consider answering. Blood was buzzing in her ears and she didn't hear the cruciatus spell cast in her way either. But the pain was unbearable. She fell to the ground writhing and crying out, and as the spell wore off and her head rolled to the side, she made eye contact with Malfoy, who was back in his original position, leaning on the wall. He gave her a strange look, like he was trying to say something but couldn't.

\- You answer to the dark lord when he asks a question, filth! Bellatrix's screeching voice rang across the room.

\- Now, now, Bellatrix, no need to shout. You'll have plenty of time for that later. Take her up, Bellatrix.

\- Yes my lord. The witch bowed down to her master and with the flick of her wand, lifted not too gently Hermione from the ground.

Voldemort turned to the only cell that wasn't vacant.

\- Ah yes, young Mr. Malfoy. How are you doing today?

Draco kept his eyes to the ground, not once making eye contact with his former master. The mistake, however, that angered Voldemort seemed to be the lack of response. Hermione watched as it was her schoolmate's turn to writhe on the ground, only letting out a groan to express his pain. But Hermione could see that Voldemort's spell was much stronger than Bellatrix's. It took several minutes of repeated cruciatus for Voldemort to be satisfied. It left Malfoy panting, on his knees. What scared Hermione the most though, was the wheezing sound he made when he breathed. She had read somewhere that witches and wizards who were held under the cruciatus spell for long periods of time tended to develop heart and lungs dysfunction.

\- This wand works undeniably well. Started the dark lord. Of course, it is not my own. Mine was… corrupted by its twin. But this one works quite better than my own. Perhaps you recognise it?

Voldemort willed the boy's head to look up and there was a flash of something close to pain again in Malfoy's eyes.

\- Yes. Familiar isn't it? After all, I tore it from your father's corpse.

Hermione felt sick. Sick, terrified and horrified for the young Slytherin who had lost his father. And if his father had died, then his mother… Voldemort released his control over Malfoy's body and his head fell back down as he brought his knees to his chest. His blond bangs prevented Hermione to see his eyes. She wanted to...to, she didn't know what she wanted in Malfoy's eyes. And as she floated out of the room and the gate closed behind her, she swore she heard a muffled sob in the cold.

Draco's POV

Granger had been screaming. Of course she had been. She was with Bellatrix. Draco wanted not to feel. He wanted not to feel bad about the muggleborn he had once called mudblood. Yet somehow, when she had stumbled upon his cell, he had been so relieved to see somebody. The house elves came when he slept, so he never really saw them, and nobody would come downstairs. Like a child seeking comfort, he had told Granger of his problems. He didn't tell her about his parents but she learned anyways. He gripped his knees tighter. He had stopped crying an hour before, because his tears had started to freeze, and it had rendered the skin of his cheek raw. Besides, if Granger ever came back down, he didn't want her knowing he cried. That would make him look even more like a weakling. Another scream echoed through the dungeons. Draco put his hands over his ears. He wanted not to care. He wanted… He wanted…

He wanted his mother.

When he had come back from that night at the astronomy tower, when Voldemort had learned about his failure, even after Snape had told him of Dumbledore's death, he had gone into a violent rage. He had killed his father first, screaming about _how pathetic a lineage he had made_. Lucius hadn't suffered. The bastard Draco had somehow grown to despise had died of a clean, painless death. His mother, on the other side, had suffered under the blinding hold of the cruciatus spell. She had stayed stoic at first, but they made Draco watch as her mind slowly decayed. They had tortured her until she screamed that she regretted ever having a son. That had hurt the young Malfoy heir more than anything. Then as the dark lord killed her, he made it so her empty eyes rested on her son as her life left her body. For hours after he had murdered Narcissa Malfoy, Voldemort took simple pleasure in hurting Draco. When he grew tired of the boy screaming at the _crucio_ he'd casted, instead he listened to the boy screaming at other death eater's brutal beating. It took the slytherin more than a day to open his left eye and after a month, he still had the bruises on his neck and collarbone. For most of his "punishment", which he received the next days, Draco learned to keep quiet. He would not give the satisfaction of uttering a sound. He was done screaming. But the girl upstairs was not.

He would not leave her broken like he had been. Granger was not his best friend, was not even someone he considered his friend, but in times of war, sometimes alliances are forged. Draco moved the brick out of its encasing and gripped Granger's wand. He hadn't won it fair, but it was given to him. Its power was his for the time being.

 _\- Alohomora_

The door opened and Draco put a bare foot out of his cell. He marvelled at the feeling of walking more than three paces. The floor was cold under his feet but it didn't stop him from reaching the prison door. He opened it again. Wondering of where could his wand be in the manor. Yes, it was his home. Funny how it had been invaded by death eaters. Draco knew that if he ever managed to leave unscathed, he would never come back to Malfoy manor. Not with the blood of both his parents staining the carpet. He soundlessly made his way up, the bruises and the cuts making his pace slower than usual. His body was reacting badly to his newly found liberty. Granger; no. Hermione screamed again. From out of the dungeon, the sound was much more intense, more. It brought vivid memories of his mother and Draco had to clear his mind, to stop his body from shaking.

Like he had done all these years, Draco navigated in the hallways, recalling the times he had done so at night to steal food from the kitchen. When finally he reached the living room, he hid behind the sofa that had been pushed to the wall. From the side he could see the Gryffindor witch curled into a ball on the ground. There was something written in red on her forearm. In blood, Draco realised. He cringed as his crazy aunt let out a laugh.

\- One more time mudblood! Where is Harry Potter hiding?! Surely you must know! The brightest witch of her age, they call you. How about the dumbest bitch for a change!

Granger didn't answer and let out a bloodcurdling scream as another dark spell hit her square in the back. Now if Draco could just find the right moment to strike…

\- I believe the chosen one will have gotten my message. Come, Nagini. We have other matters to discuss.

The dark lord disapparated, leaving in his stead Granger and Bellatrix.

\- Now, mudblood filth, we have plenty of time to play together.

Granger let out a sob and curled tighter.

 _\- Cruc_ … Bellatrix didn't have time to finish her spell.

 _\- Expelliarmus!_

Draco stood in front of his aunt with his arm raised. He took a deep breath, hardening his resolve. He had lived in fear of her retribution all her life. It was time he stood up for himself.

\- Draco-dear! How good to see you out of your cell. I didn't know you had fallen so far as to help a mudblood. She shot him a predatory grin.

The next moments happened so fast Draco barely had time to register his own action. Bellatrix threw a dagger she had somehow hidden in her dress towards the blond Malfoy. So pumped of adrenaline, the boy didn't notice the blinding pain in his shoulder as the blade buried itself deep into the flesh. Granger managed to stand and ran towards Draco. For some reason having her now safe behind him made him feel better.

\- Help! To me! The prisoner and the mudblood are escaping!

As soon as Bellatrix's strident scream sounded, Draco turned towards Hermione. He took her arm and pulled her close. Concentrating, the young Malfoy called upon the strength of his family's blood and tried apparating. It failed and a couple of death eaters entered the room, wands raised. His aunt herself retrieved her wand and started an incantation Draco had never heard. His heart was beating so fast it was starting to hurt his chest. In a last ditch attempt, he turned his back on Bellatrix to protect Granger's smaller frame, and tried to disapparate once again. It worked that time, and the familiar nausea he always experienced when disapparating appeared in his stomach. The two students vanished from the room, but not before Bellatrix's unknown spell hit Draco in the small of his back.

Hermione's POV

Draco and she had apparated away from the house with the dungeon, away from Bellatrix and her knife. Both of them landed on something white and cold. Snow, she realised. She had no idea where they were. Snow fell lazily from the sky.

\- Malfoy? Where are we? She asked him while searching around for some civilisation. There was no answer from the blond. She huffed. Malfoy, I…

Malfoy didn't look so well. She realised the same cursed knife Bellatrix had used on her was now deep in the Slytherin's right shoulder. Blood was seeping around the steel and created a growing puddle on the snow, reddening the immaculate white.

\- Malfoy wake up!

It started snowing harder.

\- Wake up!

The storm settled fast and soon the two wizards were stranded in a real blizzard, leaving Hermione alone with an unresponsive Malfoy and a lot of blood on her hand.

Harry's POV

 _The images shifted in Harry's mind. First some misty pictures of Voldemort and Nagini. Some of Bellatrix. Snatchers standing in the living room of some richly decorated house. Finally, it settled to Bellatrix, turning around like a vulture. The dark lord looked down. Hermione. Curled in a ball, with blood on his arm. His best friend was shaking._

 _\- Crucio! Crucio!_

 _Hermione screamed and screamed again, the pain seemingly unbearable._

 _\- Where is Harry Potter ratting out? Tell me! Voldemort hissed at the witch._

 _Hermione stayed unresponsive._

 _\- One more time, mudblood! Where is Harry Potter hiding? Surely you must know! The brightest witch of her age! How about the dumbest bitch, for a change!_

 _Bellatrix was screaming and Hermione screamed again in pain._

Harry wake up in cold sweat. As Ron turned in his sleeping bag, all he saw was the tears on Harry's face.

\- They have Hermione. He croaked.

Ron's face fell.


	4. The stitches and the fever

**Ephraim**

Chapter four – The fever and the stitches

 **Hermione's POV**

Hermione tried for the fourth time to get a reaction from Malfoy. He had crashed right on his bum in the snow. Because of the heavy falling hail that fell relentlessly on both of them, and since Draco's body refused to get up, the witch was panicking. She was about to slap him once more when he drowsily woke up, hand unconsciously going for his long gone dark mark. The young Gryffindor sighed in relief.

\- Thank Merlin, you woke up.

Her Slytherin schoolmate sat up, opened his mouth to speak, and ended up coughing blood. The red added to the blood already staining the ground. He shivered and his breathing started to sound strained. He was emitting a strange wheezing sound. Hermione didn't let it show but it scared her. If his health deteriorated more, they'd stay stranded in the snow storm. He shakily brought a hand to his shoulder and roughly pulled the knife buried deep in the muscle with a half scream. More blood gushed from the wound and Hermione cursed. Now it flowed faster than before.

\- Hey Malfoy. Malfoy! She shook him, careful not to hurt him further as he blinked confusedly. You need to apparate us away from here or we'll die of hypothermia.

\- What? He slurred.

Hermione put his hand on his forehead carefully, pushing the tousled blond bangs out of the way. He was burning up with a brewing fever.

\- Oh Merlin! Let us get to safety!

\- No need to call me Merlin Hmionee-eeh. Just call me Draco.

Great. At least his usually defective sense of humour stayed untouched. Being in the snow with a knife wound in the shoulder didn't help.

\- Malfoy, apparate us away. I still can't do it myself.

\- Are you, Hmion-ioney Granger, the queen of know-it-alls and Gryffindor ask me. Me Dwaco the Slytherin for help?! He chuckled to himself weakly.

Did he just call himself Dwaco?

\- Yes! Please! Just get us out of here and somewhere warm!

The cold was beginning to hurt her cheeks, and she wasn't sure if it was physically possible to feel herself turning blue, but it sure as hell wasn't feeling good. Malfoy tried to say something but it just sounded like an intelligible blabber. She wondered what was up with him but shook off all the question blaming the confusion on the blood loss.

\- Somewhere warm… yah.

She took his cold hand into (Mind you, hers weren't much warmer) and helped him up. She supported his weight after he swayed a bit. Finally they found a position that was comfortable. Arms wrapped around the Slytherin's waist in an awkward pose, Hermione all but supported his weight, and man, was the guy heavy. His head rested on her shoulders. He was breathing hard, coughing, and it shook the young witch's body, endangering the precarious equilibrium they had achieved. She was a petite girl and he was tall and surprisingly, realised Hermione, athletic.

\- Somewhere warm. Repeated Draco in a daze. He closed his eyes and concentrated.

It took a couple of times, but he finally managed to transport them out of the dreaded snowstorm.

They landed, to Hermione's great happiness, on a wooden floor and not in nature. She quickly stood, wand in hand, ready to fight back if need be. When the witch had scanned her surroundings with careful attention and deemed it safe enough, she lowered her wand and dropped her stance. Exhaling a shaky breath she didn't know she was holding, she found herself amazed by her surroundings. A ray of sunshine hit her eye and she all but ran to the window. They were in a large house, quaint and seemingly comfortable, surrounded by vegetation that looked like… A vineyard?! Yes, a vineyard. She could she the beginning of grapefruits growing. The sky was of a wonderful blue, the burnt orange sun haloed by a pink hue. It was sundown, and she couldn't take her eyes off the beautiful scenery painted before her.

The sharp pain that returned to her hip, however, was enough to make her cringe. She was about to conjure a healing spell but was interrupted by the violent coughs of Malfoy, who she had momentarily forgotten. She'd have time later to explore the house and heal her bruises. Malfoy had fallen in another restless slumber, coughing from the back of his throat. Normally he had a fair complexion, when she had found him in the freezing dungeon he was paler than usual and now he was turning a little greyish, which, even with Hermione's more than basic knowledge in healthcare, wasn't good. Just as abruptly as his coughing had started, it stopped, and the eerie silence was scarier than the raking sounds he was making.

\- Malfoy? Can you hear me? She tried waking him up, taking hesitant steps towards his form.

He had a strange spasm and let out a grunt of pain, turning of himself. At least, he was moving again. But he seemed in pain. That's about when Hermione saw something she hadn't noticed before. Since Draco's shirt had lifted in his convulsive state, it revealed something inky black in the small of his back. Hermione dropped to her knees near the fallen boy to observe.

It looked like a tattoo. A tribal style tree made of charcoal coloured ink. The branches and the leaves grew all the wall to his shoulder blades, she realised as she pushed the shirt all the way up. Upon closer inspection, she saw one of the leaves fall like it was autumn and gracefully dance to the ground. As it touched what looked like the roots of the tree, Draco's back arched and his face twisted in pain.

\- Oh god. Hermione let out as realisation hit her. Each time a leaf falls to the ground he feels pain.

She remembered reading about how the dark wizard would cast it upon their traitors. It didn't kill the victim, merely inflicted pain. Now she recalled Bellatrix Lestrange casting that unknown spell. Malfoy must've caught it with his body when they apparated. They called it the roots of fever. There was no way Hermione could stop it. They'd have to wait until all the leaves fell. There were hundreds.

Hermione sighed. She started by taking off Malfoy's not-so-white-anymore shirt. She struggled to keep his body as still as possible when another leaf fell. She took her time to wash the bloody gash on Draco's shoulder, then stitched it magically, the stitching needle moving in sync with her wand. It was tricky to not stab him with it when he moved in his sleep-like comatose.

\- Come on now Malfoy. She lifted his body with magic and ungracefully dropped him on the kitchen table.

\- Okay Granger. Time to explore. Oh great! She was talking to herself now.

As she walked around the neutral coloured hallways, she thought about the events that had taken place the days before. She chuckled opening the first door. It had just been two days and she was stuck in a house God-knew-where with her once school enemy. Nope, just a drawing room. She closed the wooden doors and kept going in the same direction. She stumbled on the next two doors and found a huge library, to her great happiness. There was also a reading room, annex to the first one. Finally she found what she was searching for. Two bedrooms, next to each other, separated by a bathroom as big as the prefect's one at Hogwarts. The first one was obviously a boy's room. Painted blue and white with hand painted canvas of bright colours. The second, a master's bedroom, sported beige, brown and navy blue as its colours.

The young Gryffindor backtracked, lifted her blond schoolmate again and made him float all the way to the first room, who had a painted white ceiling. She, gently this time, let him fall on the bed and moved him so he was a minimum comfortable. She took off his shoes, throwing them to the other side of the room. With a couple of flicks of wand, she changed his underwear and pants, looking the other side to give him a bit of privacy. Now in clean slack joggings, she washed his face and hair.

" _Now,_ she thought, _that's better."_

She drew invisible barriers to keep him from falling. The roots of fever would, as Hermione previously calculated, take a month or two until the tree would be empty of leaves. She sighed again as the young man twisted slightly, groaning in discomfort. She just stood there, rocking on her heels. Honestly at that point there was nothing she could do. She moved a strand of hair falling over his eyebrows and brushed a hand against the bruises still remaining on his face.

\- Okay then. Sleep well Malfoy. I… I promise I'll find a way to cure you.

Hermione closed the door behind her. Little did she know she wouldn't be able to keep her promise.

 **Draco's POV**

Draco couldn't see very well. In fact, he couldn't see at all. He could barely hear. It was like a radio between two frequencies. Sometimes he could hear Hermione talking… to him? To herself? It didn't matter. It was all so far, so far away. And just when he thought he was finally going to sleep, he was jolted by a horrible pain in the back. If he could compare, he'd say it was akin to a very bad itch. Painful. Unattainable. He tried several times to reach around, to scratch it until it was gone but somehow he found himself unable to move.

" _Bedridden just took a whole new meaning._ He thought dryly. _That's what you get for saving a know-it-all Gryffindor. You should have stayed in that cell."_

" _ **You know you don't really mean that."**_

Another nagging voice joined his own. Oh the irony of how it suspiciously sounded like the sarcastic, slightly bitchy voice of Blaise Zabini, his best friend.

" _Oh shut it Zabini. You and I know very well that you couldn't stand her in school either."_

" _ **Don't get me mixed up with Crabbe and Goyle. I always thought she was smart. Maybe even smarter than you."**_ Blaise's laugh sounded in his head.

" _No way that mud… muggleborn was better than me in school."_

" _ **That's it, fool yourself and pout Draco. You know, I still have no idea what Pansy Parkinson saw in you."**_

" _Why the hell are you here Zabini?"_

" _ **Well, I'm not really Blaise. I'm really your conscience. Or what you believe is the closest to the right thing. It just comes in Blaise Zabini's form."**_

" _Okay, let's just say I understand that. Tell me why you are here."_

" _ **Oh. I'm here to keep you company for the next months."**_

Oh joy.


	5. The days that passed and those to come

**So the fifth chapter is officially complete. I want to thanks those of you who read and reviewed, you guys are awesome. Am I too slow to update? Or too fast? Anyways life is mostly uneventful with my studies at Cégep, so I should be able to keep updating regularly.**

 **I think I forgot the disclaimer in some of my previous chapters so this disclaimer will have to do for the remaining of my chapters: I do not nor will I ever own the Harry Potter franchise, its plot, its characters or anything even remotely related to them.**

 **Ephraim**

Chapter five – The days that passed and those to come

 **Hermione's POV**

-19th of August-

She thought it would be unprincipled and iniquitous of her to stop caring for Malfoy and let him suffer. So she had taken care of him for the past month and a half. They had arrived earl July and since then, nothing had changed. The leaves on the teenager's back were still falling and Hermione was still trying her best to find some kind of cure, task at which she was failing.

Hermione had fallen into a routine. Wake up at eight, check on Malfoy, take care of his daily needs, however challenging it was for her, eat breakfast, take a shower, read some books, practice some spells, explore the grounds, lunchtime for Malfoy, lunchtime for her, some reading again, check on Malfoy again, dinner, do some chores, nightly routine, check on Malfoy and sleep. Repeat. She thought it calming to have at least something she could rely on. The hardest thing really, was not knowing where Harry and Ron were. For the tenth time that day she asked herself where the two were headed. _Probably horcruxe hunting_ , she thought bitterly, _without me._ She wondered what they would say if they saw her, in some kind of summer house, taking care of Draco freaking Malfoy. They'd probably give her a disbelieving look and Ron would go on about how she was fraternizing with the enemy again. Just like in fourth grade with Krum. But for the first time in years, she saw a more human side of her Slytherin schoolmate.

She closed the book she was reading and stretched in the comfortable hammock, observing the beautiful garden. She did that often; she'd stop doing whatever she was doing and she'd just watch. Recently she'd been reading a lot. She couldn't stand not doing anything and procrastinating, so she took it to herself to learn new things. She had already crammed the content of just about three full books of spell. That day she had practised a new spell. It altered the morning glory's properties so instead of making it bloom early in the morning, it would bloom at night, as soon as the first star appeared. It was pretty useless, but Hermione was adamant that if a spell existed, it was appropriate for her to learn it. Hermione's personal favourite spell out of the new ones she had learned was a very simple incantation that created small bulbs of yellowish light. The size of her thumbnail, the small orbs could float up to two meters high and glow for three days straight. She always left one or two lit in Draco's room in case he woke up at night. At least he wouldn't be too disoriented when the roots of fever lifted. She didn't know what pushed her to be considerate about Malfoy. Honestly maybe it was just her nature that made her care.

In the last couple of weeks she had given herself the task of finding a way out of the grounds. She still couldn't apparate away, for some kind of reason. The second day after they arrived, Hermione had taken a walk, trying to see if she had any neighbours, yet she had walked for a hour straight in a rough road no one seemed to use and nothing. They were surrounded by kilometers upon kilometers of brightly coloured fields. They were literally stranded in an unknown house. The young Gryffindor didn't even know in which country they were, but they weren't in England anymore.

The house was beautiful. It was quaint and was built the old style, with a cobblestone path leading to the doorway. The roof was made with red clay tiles and harmonized with the beige coloured walls. Vines and little morning glories had grown over them, sometimes covering the whole facade. The cobblestones path was between and surrounded on either side by lemon and orange trees, the smell coming from them appalling and sugary. If you took the back door, you'd end up on the porch, and from then, to the garden. It was beautiful and full of colour and it seemed to be enchanted to take care of itself. A good thing, too, because Hermione had no idea whatsoever about how to mind a garden apart from what she had learn at Hogwarts. It was, beside the library, her favourite place to go. Some flowers, the size of a small pear, were literally floating in the air, tied down with some sort of wild liana. The colours were ranging from bright orange and yellow to purple and blues. Some type of plants, Hermione was sure, would have puzzled even professor sprout. She smiled as she thought of Neville's face in front of all those amazing specimens. She spent a lot of time reading in the hammock when the weather was good.

The property was also equipped with a fully operational greenhouse in which various fruits and vegetables you couldn't find in the garden lazily grew with the rise and fall of the sun. Some medicinal and some special plants also rose at the very end. Tables were set as countertops and all the equipment necessary for the making of potions and elixirs was accompanying them. Hermione sometimes practise her potions when she really had nothing to do. She experimented some she read about in the numerous books of the library. She'd chose randomly or she'd add something to her enchanted purse, just for emergencies. She had made several vials now, each in case of something different. She was ready for every eventuality: flu, insomnia, bad cases of zit, allergies, colds, insulation, etc. Having had her own set of problems with her skin, Hermione had taken a habit of always having witch hazel in her bag or in her trunk, even when went on a trip, for any eventual skin imperfection. Now that she had the appropriate lotion, she could get rid of the fowl smelling oil. She could get odorless oil, but that didn't quite do the job as well as the real thing. The young witch had attempted, and managed to somehow replicate skelegrow, the potion Harry had taken back in second year as Gilderoy Lockhart made his bones disappear. Always useful, and Hermione was always ready, although she doubted anyone was ever again going to get hit by a cursed bludger, and then get his arm wrecked by an incompetent teacher.

Another thing that never stopped to amaze the young witch was the refrigerator. When she had first explored the house it was the first thing she searched for. Surprisingly it was full. Soon, Hermione realised that it was probably magical, made so the food inside could be kept longer. Whoever lived here had not emptied it. The cupboards were also full and a growing garden stood in the backyard. Still Hermione rationed the food, for she didn't want them to starve before Malfoy woke up. Maybe he had answers. It annoyed the witch to be depending on the blond teen sleeping inside. She had always strived to be independent.

Reluctantly, she stepped out of her hammock. It was time to check on Malfoy and to go to sleep. Hermione willed her will-o'-the-wisps, the bulbs of light she had conjured, to lead the way as she stepped, barefooted in the tidy grass. On the porch she stopped verify everything was in order before hopping in the house. First she cleaned the countertop and tidied up the kitchen. Then it was time to check on the other occupant in the house. Everyday she'd feed him with vials of potions or directly by jamming shredded food in his mouth. Since he could still swallow in his half-coma-half-slumber she had no qualms in force feeding him. Oh, the face he would make when he'd realise mudblood Granger had fed him. Hermione couldn't wait to see the look in his eyes. Even if they had saved each other, it didn't mean that she liked him or something like that. If anything he irked her a little less than before, and that was because they didn't talk. The minute he would open his mouth, she was persuaded the ferret would be back at normal.

She silently opened the wooden door and contemplated the Slytherin. His hair had grown even longer and a blond stubble had appeared but Hermione let it grow. If he wanted to cut it afterward he could do it himself. All seemed to be in order. She conjured a couple of lights she disposed in strategic places in his room and tried to block out the small seizure that took his body as another leaf fell. She felt guilty about not being able to do anything. She had promised him to find a cure but there seemed to be none. She felt so much like a bystander it frustrated her to the highest point. Tiptoeing out the room, she closed the door behind her.

\- Goodnight Malfoy.

Honestly she didn't know why she spoke to him. He couldn't possibly hear her.

 **Draco's POV**

He could hear her. Everything was fuzzy and mixed up but he could hear her when she talked to him. Like it was going to make him feel better. The pain knew no boundaries and Draco couldn't make it stop. It felt like years had passed yet it could have been just minutes. Everything was so confusing. And on some days he'd have a chit chat with Blaise. Not that it was really Blaise Zabini, the joyful Slytherin that was his best friend anyways. It was a mind trick, his conscience taking over when the pain was too intense. But Draco found it… amusing, that his conscience, the constant nagging voice in the back of his head, was taking form as his dark skinned schoolmate.

" _ **Draco**_ " A sing song voice rang from the back of his head.

Well. Speak of the devil.

" _What is it Blaise_?"

" _ **I just want to talk to you, man! It's been a while**_!"

"Yeah _, well, you're still as obnoxious as ever so don't hold it against me for not talking to you as often as you'd want to._ "

The voice tutted and Draco fought a new wave of pain. They were closer to each other now, more often. But still as bad as ever.

" _ **Well, your voice is still as nice to hear as ever. But I don't understand why you don't talk to me. I'm just here to make conversation.**_ "

" _What do you want? Get to the point_."

It was basic Slytherin knowledge. How to make conversation and how to make it turn your way so you got the lead. And Draco was not only a Slytherin, he was also a Malfoy. And Malfoys never let themselves be victim to some old conversation tricks.

" _ **Why didn't you kill Dumbledore?**_ "

Well, that was definitely not the question he was waiting for. Draco kept silent and suffered through a new wave of particularly strong pain. Why hadn't he killed Dumbledore? Truth was, the wizard had no idea. Like an old black and white television with a bad definition, Draco suddenly had a better image of what surrounded him. He already knew he was in a bed. But this time, he saw three or was it four- no, it was five lights around his head, floating, hovering like fireflies in august. For a second he thought he recognised where he was but as soon as the feeling struck him, he fell back into a dark half awakening. He exhaled shakily. Why hadn't he killed the old man?

" _ **So you don't know yourself?**_ "

Blaise's voice shook him out of his contemplative stupor.

" _No, I guess not_." He admitted quietly.

Really, the wizard hadn't given much thoughts at the question, since he was imprisoned in a cave, hoping not to die of the intense cold that reigned there. He was so afraid for his own life, he had actually managed to whiten his hair more.

There was an odd silence.

" _ **Well, I'm sure that you'll get the answer someday**_."

" _Yeah? And how do you know that?_ "

" _ **I'm your conscience Draco. I just know that type of things. I think I'm actually the most qualified person to tell you to trust yourself.**_ "

" _Trust myself? Can this conversation get any cheesier?_ " Draco laughed.

Truth was, even if he would never admit it, Draco was happy to hear Blaise's voice, even if this was some kind of crazy hallucination and that the real Zabini was probably at Hogwarts, attending side by side with Theodore Nott and Pansy Parkinson, two of his most loyal friends. Sometimes, he admitted, they could be obnoxious and loud, or, like Pansy, a little too close to him for his preference, yet they were always, or almost always there for him. Another blinding pain took a hold of his body and he groaned in discomfort. Malfoys do not scream. Malfoys do not show their pain, they control it.

" _ **Just a little more time Draco.**_ "

Zabini's voice seemed softer. Just a little more, he had said. Yes, and then the pain would subside. And then he'd get back at his crazy aunt for cursing him. He'd figure out why he hadn't killed Dumbledore. Hell, he'd even thank the mudbl-Granger, he reminded himself. His mother, right before she had been torture until confusion and nothingness took her mind, had told him that even though she was a pureblood born and bred, she didn't want for him to be prisoner of prejudices like his father had been. Even if he found it difficult to not judge based on blood status, he would honour his mother's last wish. Yes. When he would finally be free of this damnation, he would thank Granger for taking care of him, like a civilised gentleman. He would thank her and afterward hex Bellatrix into the next week. Then, he'd run the hell away from wherever he was and he would hide in a far, far, faraway magical community until the war ended. Somewhere remote where the dark lord hadn't stationed any death eaters. Think Nepal. Or better, Canada. He knew some people over there that could welcome him with no problem: Adeline and Napoléon. Retired followers who had fled after their lord's defeat years ago, mainly. Sure it was cold in both countries, but Draco had been raised in the English countryside. He was accustomed to bad weather. He'd be away from Voldemort, away from Potter and the weasel, and away from all those blasted snatchers. He would fly, like he had been taught to all his life, like His father had fled from his responsibilities.

Draco Malfoy was not his father.


	6. Up and alive

**Here is the continuation of my story. Thanks to all those of you who reviewed and pointed out some mistakes I made. Last chapter's disclaimer still stands. I have been procrastinating on this chapter for a while since I was busy working and being a good student… Nope, I was busy watching the season premiere of supernatural season 11. And watching once more the originals season 2. So basically I did everything but being productive. Yet I finally finished it.**

 **Please enjoy.**

 **Ephraim**

Chapter 6 – Up and alive

 **Draco's POV**

-30th of August-

Darkness. Utter Darkness. Funny how accustomed Draco had grown to the soundless, lightless abyss that had become his torment. If he would have been awake, he would have noticed that it had been two months since he had fallen in that void. His closed eyelids were becoming a quite familiar sight. Recently, the pain had become a bit duller than what it used to be. Deep down, Draco was afraid it was because he was dying, but he refused to believe that his time had come. Blaise's visits in his subconscious were less and less frequent and the wizard somehow came to miss greatly the voice that constantly reminded him that he was still alive. Not that he'd tell anybody but he was terrified of never waking up. He no longer saw glimpses of the room or of Granger. Even if the pain had dimmed, the dreading sensation that his spirit was slowly slipping out of his body lingered like a reminder of the energy the curse was draining from his body.

That day-never mind that, it could as well have been the night, Draco would have seen no difference-He felt for the first time in months a fuzzy sensation. The tip of his fingers seem to nudge. He blinked once, twice, and let a disappointed sigh. He only saw darkness. So he was still under the blasted curse. But as he was falling back into a restless sleep again, he saw it. Well, he saw _them_.

Hovering mere meters away from him, a couple of small, blinding lights were floating, like angels in a starless night. And the only thing he could think about was:

" _Okay. Now I'm dead._ "

 **Hermione's POV**

Hermione dropped her book with frustration and let her head fall back onto the window sill. The last days she had grown increasingly impatient and increasingly convinced that there were no way out the grounds. She had tried walking the farthest that she could but she always had to come back because of Malfoy. She had walked two hours straight and then two hours back, without any results. They were seemingly surrounded by fields of purplish coloured flowers suspiciously looking like lavender. Hermione was at her wit's end to find a way to somehow leave. Their reserve of fresh food was running very low and even if the garden was magical and enchanted, there was a natural limit to the speed at which she could grow vegetables. She had procrastinated for the last week and had stalled in the production of new potions. Truth was, Hermione never felt more alone than then. Her friends were achieving an important quest and there she was, not helping at all. She felt useless and tired. The routine she had followed for the first month wasn't quite working anymore and she found herself rebelling against her own rules. Her visits to the resident sick Slytherin were more random and whenever she felt like. Organized, smart Hermione was, for once in her life, at a loss of organization.

The room was cluttered, littered with ripped pages, scrunched balls of papers, spilt ink and empty cups. Hermione had stopped going outside daily, instead staying in the comfort of her room.

She pulled at her hair. Uggh! She was going crazy! Inn school, at least, she had classes, her homework, her work with S.P.E.W, helping out Harry and Ron, and even more classes to attend. It was truly the first time she was left to herself.

She jumped from her bed and sat, legs crossed on the comfortably warm wooden floor. Recently she had read in her book about the benefits of meditation for wizards. Apparently so, the simple exercise allowed the witch or wizard's psyche to clear and to be ready for spellcasting. It enhanced greatly the caster's strength. The young Gryffindor had mediated twice a day each days for the past two weeks and kept on doing it; her nerves were thanking her. She relaxed and cleared her mind. The last thing she saw before closing her eyes was the faintest glint of the few first shiny stars.

The only thing with her constant meditation, was that she had no idea whatsoever about the time she spent like that. It could be hours before she would wake up from her trance. She let her mind wander for a bit before closing the stream of thoughts and just… exist. In the darkness of her own mind, she stared at the nothingness for a while. She allowed herself to be lost, to feel nothing, to remember nothing. Unbeknownst to her, hours flew by, and the moon slowly started the course across the ink coloured sky. The stars were soon covered by a thick ribbon of clouds. It would probably rain the next day. Unbeknownst to her were also the tiny particles of dust gently floating around, or the gentle wind that filtered by the minuscule opening of the window. She was painfully oblivious of the white paint cracking on the door and the small wasp endlessly flying towards the bulb of light she had left on the porch. She was profoundly deep in her thoughts.

Suddenly a shuffling sound shook her out of her meditation. She stood silently, her mind so concentrated she could hear every single heartbeat she was producing. She put her back to the door, ready to round the wall and face whatever threat was standing on the other side. She breathed sharply and the disturbance sounded again. She tried to remember everything she ever learned in DADA and the duel club about offensive spellcasting and attacking first. She steadied her stance, anchored her feet to the ground, ready to get defensive if there was a need. Finally the mystery intruder was close enough for Hermione to hex it into oblivion, so the Gryffindor swirled around her wand and came face to face with two grey eyes on a very surprised looking Draco Malfoy.

Walking.

Out of bed.

Looking a bit pale, but out of bed.

And looking like he was on the verge of having an attack.

\- Granger. He breathed out. He closed his eyes in relief and let his head roll back.

\- Malfoy! Hermione let out a strangled laugh. I could hug you right now. Her wand fell to her side and her frantic heartbeat decreased a bit.

Said Malfoy managed to etch a strange smirk.

\- I'd rather not Granger. He drawled.

Hermione rolled her eyes and huffed. Yes, he was himself alright. He was leaning against the wall with a half-annoyed-half-angry-hundred-percent-tired face. It was just then she realised how ridiculously old he seemed. He was trying to look intimidating or, at the least, he tried to look unnerving, and he was failing. A short beard had grown on his chin, his hair had somehow taken three or four centimeters of length and they were hanging loosely around his sunken face. He was wearing incredibly muggle-like clothes, namely an old pair of joggers and a sweater that had seen better days. And he was barefooted.

Hermione laughed.

She let all the anger, the nervousness and the fatigue from the last months flow in a burst of laughter. She clutched her stomach as the laugh bubbled out. Draco Malfoy, the haughty, sickeningly rich, muggleborn despising pureblood Slytherin was standing barefooted, _in a sweater,_ in front of her looking like a sleep deprived homeless man.

When she finally stopped with the hysterical laughing, Draco was glaring at her with flushed cheeks. From embarrassment or anger, she did not know, but the latter was much more probable.

\- Are you quite finished?

He tried to step forward. Note the use of tried. He stumbled and groaned in apparent pain. Hermione stopped grinning.

\- Come on Malfoy. To the living room. I'll check your back and fill you in on our… situation.

She used that strict, no nonsense tone so akin to McGonagall's that it was scary. And Malfoy had the nerve to snort at her.

\- Merlin, Granger. What'd you eat for breakfast?

He reluctantly took a couple of hesitant steps down the hallway. Hermione was actually surprised he had heeded her order.

\- Following an order from a mudblood, Malfoy? I'm surprised.

The Gryffindor's crude use of the derogative word seemed to stop her schoolmate in his step and he turned his cold face towards her.

\- I'm well above childish banter about blood purity. Pureblood, halfblood, muggleborn. I don't care the blood status, as long as they stay out of my way and leave me the hell alone.

He turned back and the rest of the short walk was done in uncomfortable silence. It left Hermione thinking about the sudden change in Draco's values. In the past, blood purity had been a big deal for him and he had hurt her feelings more than once with his remarks. What had caused the noticeable change, she did not know, but she felt like it made him a better human, somehow.

Draco crashed on the ancient-looking marine sofa Hermione thought was the most uncomfortable. The young witch motioned for him to take off his shirt nervously, ready to answer whatever snappy comment he was about to throw at her but he merely obliged. Groaning and attempting to hide a wince, the Slytherin grabbed the hem of the sweater and pulled it out with difficulty.

\- So what happened? He asked while Hermione probed to search for residual magic. He was siting Indian style and she sat behind him, poking his back with her wand and not so gently kneading the knotted muscles here and there.

In the days he had been bedridden, Draco had lost a lot of mass, muscular or otherwise. But his body would recover and he would probably gain back what he lost. Hermione found there were a panoply of scars varying in shape and colour. She assumed it was due to the period of time before she had found him at the death eaters' lair. Hermione took her time to answer, instead making sure that nothing remained of the blasted dark curse.

\- You've been cursed by you dear aunt as we got out. You managed to get us into somewhere full of snow. And then you transported us again. All the way here.

\- Cursed?

\- Something called the Roots of fever. Ancient dark magic with no cure.

He grunted as her hand kneaded a wrong spot on the low part of his spine. She pressed again.

\- Does it hurt if I press here?

Another groan.

\- What do you think, Granger? He spat, obviously in pain.

She pressed once more, feeling satisfied with the squeak of pain that bubbled from the boy.

\- Play nice Malfoy, or I won't.

She was surprised at herself. Merlin! Where had she learned to be that…

\- You sound like a Slytherin, Granger. Maybe green would have suited you better than that ugly Gryffindor red.

There was a smirk in his voice, and Hermione didn't bother to answer his comment.

\- Good thing is that the curse seems to have ended. The mark lifted from your skin. The less good thing is that you are going to feel achy and your back is probably going to be painful for a while but it's normal. It's on its way of healing.

\- Hmmh hmmh. He answered half-heartedly. He was looking around at that point, eyes travelling over the rich furniture and the expensive decorations. Hey Granger? Where are we?

She sighed frustratingly.

\- I was hoping you could answer that. I don't know where we are, and I've been trying to disapparate but it's not working and I don't know why.

\- It frustrates you, doesn't it? Know-it-all Granger not knowing _why_.

She wanted so bad to wipe that smirk from that damn face.

\- Well, for your information, he continued. I think I might actually know where we are. This looks familiarly like one of the Malfoy estates abroad.

He gestured around.

\- I can see many of my family's coat of arms here. It's unusually warm and the air is filled with humidity. And by the look of the garden, the grounds are magical.

He looked straight at her with some kind of excitement in his eyes.

\- We're in the Italian countryside. In one of my family house.

Italy. Wow. Hermione had always wanted to travel. She had been to France, but had only visited the countryside. She had never actually been to Paris, but she always wanted to.

\- I assume you already came her? She spoke up.

He nodded.

\- When I was younger, I came once or twice. Actually, I'm surprised I even remembered the place.

Hermione hummed. It was easier to apparate to a place you knew well. Draco was right to question his ability to apparate. Never mind the actual remembering, Malfoy had traveled them kilometers upon kilometers away from the country. She would remember to test his magical potential once they found a way out of there.

He raked a hand through his hair and made a disgusted grimace.

\- My hair is disgusting. How long as it been since I fell kind of asleep?

\- Two months, give or take a couple of days.

The expression on the face of the Slytherin was priceless. A mix of awe and profound horror. Like in a trance he stepped off the sofa and walked to the hallway, still shaky on his feet.

\- Wait! Malfoy! Where are you going?!

He turned around with a devious smirk.

\- I'm going to run a hot bath. Do you care to join me?

Hermione flushed. She'd been around guys for ages, with Harry and Ron for years but it was the first time a boy said something suggesting like that to her. She fiercely shook her head. Draco's smirk widened.

\- Your loss.

She threw him a towel carefully folded in a cupboard.

 **Draco's POV**

With the soft white towel wrapped around his waist, Draco contemplated his newly rediscovered body. His hair was way too long to be deemed decent, his nails needed a little trimming and he needed to eat and shave the beard he didn't know could grow on him. He huffed. It annoyed him greatly that he didn't have his wand; he'd have to get a new one. His nails he could himself, but if he didn't want to scalp himself, he'd have to rely on Granger for the hair. Merlin.

He wasn't too pleased with the result of two months of bedrest. Before Voldemort decided to go all revengy-vengy on him, Draco had a nice body. Toned by quidditch, he was tall and fit. Not exactly the bodybuilder but he considered it to be very decent. Now he just looked kind of lanky and awkward. Well, he'd have to work to get his physic back.

After deciding it was enough time spent being narcissistic for the day, he threw on a decent grey cotton long sleeved shirt and fancy black jeans, the only piece of muggle fashion he remotely liked. Besides, if he was to go outside or happened to being seen, the goal was to look natural. And in muggle Italy, normal meant muggle clothes and muggle looks.

He swayed a bit down the stairs and was surprised to see the beautiful sunrise by the window. He hadn't quite realised, but he had awakened in the middle of the night. It had scared him senseless, to see only a couple of orbs floating around like Yukoner Firebees, the deadly self-inflammable insects he had only seen once. He later realised that they were nothing more than balls of light, which Granger had placed in case he'd wake up.

He had followed the trail of Firebee lights, as he had taken to call them, until he'd reach a half opened door. He was just about to open it further when the crazy lion chick had jumped out of nowhere and was threatening him with a wand.

But now that the sun had risen Hermione was taking care of putting out all the lights, the fifty or something she had put in the garden and all those that floated around the house, bouncing haphazardly against one another. Draco wandered around the house, admiring the furniture, brushing his hands across the mahogany glory box in a corner of the drawing room. He was feeling calmer now that he had taken a shower. But the feeling of calm promptly came to an end with Granger's shout across the rooms.

\- Malfoy! Get down here!

There was no distress in her voice but there was command. Draco felt no need to obey but was compelled by curiosity. He lazily made his way to the porch where the Gryffindor witch was standing, arms crossed over her chest. She was wearing a long Ochre peasant skirt, or at least he thought it was called that way. Tucked in it, she wore a white dress shirt adorned with delicate embroidered red flower motif near the neckline. The countryside apparel was suiting her, if Draco was completely honest.

He leaned against the wall nonchalantly and stared. He was trying to make her uncomfortable, yet she unnervingly stood her grounds. He huffed in annoyance and broke the stare down contest.

\- What do you want Granger?

\- We're going to do some tests, to see if we can apparate.

\- What, now?

\- Yes, now. So try put on some shoes and let's get going.

\- Do you ever sleep, Granger? Draco was incredulous. She wanted him to try and disapparate when he had trouble with walking. He lifted his weight from the wall and came to plant himself in front of her.

Hermione scowled at their close proximity.

\- Because I'm tired, I have trouble moving, I need to eat and I need a haircut. He continued. So doing your tests are going to have to wait.

He turned around and stepped out on the porch.

 **Hermione's POV**

Damn Malfoy.


	7. Granger and the broomstick

**I now admit that on a scale of 1 to 10, I'd rate my procrastination a 10 out of 10. Here's chapter 7. Thanks to the ones who have the patience of waiting.**

 **Same disclaimer as always, people. Please enjoy.**

 **Ephraim**

Chapter 7 – Granger and the broomstick

 **Hermione's POV**

19th of September

Three weeks had passed since Malfoy had risen from his curse induced slumber. Three weeks which had brought them in the middle of September. Hermione regretted not being at Hogwarts, even if the once decent establishment was now overrun by death eaters and murderers. She often thought of Neville, Ginny and the rest of them who actually went back.

Meanwhile she was having her own problems. Namely the fact that there was no animosity between her and Malfoy anymore. They were actually being civil with one another. Both of them had managed more than once to stand in the same room at the same time. That creeped Hermione out. If she didn't see Malfoy as an enemy anymore, that meant that the lines between good and evil were getting blurred. The Gryffindor was afraid to admit that she had grown accustomed with Malfoy's presence. He who she could have hexed into the next week the year before was now sitting across her at the table, looking like he had wrestled with wildcats on his way to the kitchen. She had learned very early that Draco Malfoy in the morning was definitely not a Draco Malfoy at his best. His eyes were puffy from sleep and most of the mornings, he was still drowsy and stumbled down the stairs with wild hair.

Malfoy's hair itself was a story of its own. Since he was still wandless from their little visit to the death eater lair (Hermione learned later that it was in fact Malfoy manor), he had insisted that Hermione leant him her wand so he could cut his overgrown hair. That had created a small incident in which his hair had momentarily turned a beautiful magenta shade as they were fighting over said wand. Afterward after a long and heated discussion, Hermione had, under Malfoy's careful supervision, cut his hair herself with a spell the Slytherin had provided. Surprisingly enough, Hermione hadn't known it existed. Malfoy, who didn't think fondly of Hermione's talent in cutting hair, found himself contented with the results. The Gryffindor witch had trimmed his hair shorter on the sides and had left the top slightly longer so her slytherin counterpart could style it if he wanted to. Because of Malfoy's lack of styling gel, he just let the longer part of his hair down, and the strands in the front were slightly curling, falling just over his eyebrows. It was very stylish, she had decided when admiring her work, and it made him look more like a muggle teenager than a rich pureblood wizard.

So there he was, slumped in his chair staring at the flowery tablecloth with a cup of coffee he seemed to have forgotten. He still had pillow marks on his face but Hermione knew better than to point it out so early.

The two of them had been outside since Malfoy's awakening, but they had failed in the task of getting out. And it is without saying that they had tried hard. They had tried trekking across the valley but found nothing after six hours of walking, they had tried multiple times to apparate but without any positive results. Then they had walked further and found some sort of force field, keeping them inside. Their latest test was some ten days before and since then they had slacked on their efforts.

She was a tad annoyed that they had procrastinated in their task of getting out. Hermione was all for staying inside and studying before acting but she was getting restless and the lazy blond residing in the room next to hers wasn't helping the cause.

\- Malfoy, she called from over her book.

No response

\- Malfoy, she tried again, and then a thrice.

The boy only grumbled an unintelligible answer and soon enough Hermione's tea biscuit was flying across the dining room to collide with the Slytherin's nose, sending his head whipping to see the source of the flying food.

\- Malfoy!

\- What?

\- Today we have to work on getting out of here.

The blond dropped his head to the table and groaned, the sound muffled by his arms and the tablecloth. Hermione almost smiled at his laziness. He was just like Harry and Ron.

Their morning was spent in comfortable silence. They had decided to roam the library until lunch, and go outside afterward until dinner. Hermione sat onto her usual couch, and Draco on the sofa nearest to the fireplace, just so he was in the direct line with the tall window on the opposite side. With the bright morning lights on him, he looked as if he was some kind of bright entity. With his nearing white hair, pale skin and matching pale eyes, Hermione dared to even think that he looked more like an angel than like the asshole he usually was. Yet even Hermione had to admit that their quarrels were getting rarer and found herself agreeing to Malfoy's ideas much more often than she realised.

She had discovered things about Malfoy she had never known about, or even remarked. When he slept he would sleep with slightly parted lips. He preferred coffee to tea. When he was bored he couldn't sit straight. Little things like that.

\- Seeing something you like, Granger?

Hermione had been so engrossed in her thoughts, she hadn't realised she was staring at the Slytherin. A couple of months ago that remark would have set her cheeks on fire and she would've fought back against his snide comment but at that point the quip flew over her head and she sent Draco an unimpressed look over the boring book she was reading. She was rewarded by a trademark smirk, half smile she found slightly endearing recently, not that she'd ever admit it. She went back to her book and not even two minutes later, Draco spoke again.

\- I'll be damned. Hermione, I found it!

Hermione. Hermione. Hermione. He had just called her Hermione. Why had he called her Hermione? To him she had always been Granger, or some other degrading nickname.

\- Granger, did you hear me? I know why we can't apparate out of the grounds!

And just like that, the Granger was back. She walked to his side of the living room and sat on the armrest of the sofa beside him.

\- What did you find out? She couldn't help but being just a little bit excited.

\- Here: _Of all the times Bastian and I tried to leave this house, only today did I realise that mother had sealed the property. Yesterday my sister Kitty and I were playing in the garden and I cut my finger on a tree branch. A little bit of blood splattered and it shimmered violet. And from there I could suddenly apparate. Bastian and I saw each other every day from then._

\- Where is this from?

\- Some journal I found in the library. From what I understand, there is some kind of force field preventing anyone from apparating outside. But it seems that spilling Malfoy blood on it could make open.

Malfoy seemed to want to say something more but he was interrupted by a fit of cough. It raked his body and again he made the wheezing sound she had grown accustomed to hearing.

It happened often and each time, Hermione didn't know how to react. Most of the time she would pretend she didn't hear it. But just the she felt compelled to do just a little more. So she hesitantly put her hand down his back, warm through his shirt, and ran soothingly her thumb against his spine until the coughs stop completely.

Neither spoke of it again but this would become a habit of Hermione. To press gently her palm against his skin until he finished painfully breathing.

Later that days they both went outside to try out Malfoy's new theory. They were supposed to meet near the end of the property, so they could walk up to the force field. Hermione arrived there maybe ten minutes before Malfoy, who was somewhere, wandering around. She was standing in a lavender coloured field, with vegetation of unknown nature growing up to mid-thigh. It never seemed to stop amazing her, the beautiful countryside unravelling before her, the hues of colours intense in the late afternoon.

She was wearing a loose powder blue cotton blouse tucked in a white embroidered maxi skirt, gaining back her countryside style. Her hair, that she hadn't combed in forever were up in a ponytail, so her vision was clear. While gazing at the horizon, Hermione was interrupted by a rustling sound.

Malfoy was making his way in the field. He wore a seemingly simple white button up shirt with long sleeves underneath suspenders and comfortable dark pants. He had, for whatever reason, a broom in his hands. Tousled hair askew by the wind, he arrived close with a smirk.

\- I found a broom.

\- Obviously. Why did you bring it?

\- So we can fly to the field instead of walking there. Much easier that way.

Hermione snorted. There was no way in hell she was getting on a broom. Her face probably was comical to Draco because his smirk intensified, catching on that she was afraid of flying.

\- Seriously? Of all the things, you are afraid of flying?

\- Very funny, Malfoy. We're all afraid of something.

\- Yeah, well, I just assumed that it was something scarier, you know, being a Gryffindor, and all.

\- Did you just twistedly call me brave, Malfoy?

\- I don't know. Did I?

\- What are _you_ afraid of, then, mister all high and mighty Slytherin prince?

\- The dark lord.

There. So simple, that Draco had said it with a shrug. They shared a moment of silence before Malfoy sighed again.

\- Do you think it will work?

\- The force field? I don't know. Maybe.

\- Are you doubting our capacities, Granger? After all you are the brightest witch of your age, or so they say.

\- And you are the second best in all, Malfoy.

He smiled in earnest and she couldn't help but smile back.

\- So are getting on the broom, Granger, or are you just going to stand there?

\- I'm very well on the ground thank you Malfoy.

He positioned the broom and installed himself.

\- Just get on the broom, Granger. I swear I won't make you fall.

Hermione considered, she really considered. She had flown a couple of times before but just for short periods of time and she never enjoyed it in the least. There stood Draco Malfoy on a broom. Negative points: She could possibly be sick and vomit, there was a chance she could fall or they wouldn't stop early enough and they would splatter on the protective force field. Positive points: Malfoy seemed in a good mood, he was a good quidditch player, agile on a broom and she had her wand with herself.

Ron and Harry had tried to get her to mount a broom a couple of times but she had never agreed, so what pushed her to get on this broom with Malfoy, she didn't know.

But she did.

She sat on the broom behind Malfoy, who guided her action with his voice while watching her movements. She nudged close to her blond schoolmate and put her arms around his waist.

\- No comments, Malfoy, or I swear I will throw you off the broom.

\- You wouldn't, Granger.

\- Try me.

Malfoy snickered and kicked off.

Full speed.

Hermione screamed until she didn't have any breath anymore. The ground was getting smaller by the second and she buried her head in the warm back in front of her, muffling the string of curses she didn't even know she knew. She felt a strange vibration and only then did she realise that Malfoy was laughing. A full body laugh that she heard even with all the wind. She didn't dare lift her face from his spine.

\- Come on Hermione! Look at the view!

There. The Hermione was back. She still didn't lift her face. She was gripping his shirt, holding on to his middle with all her might, not even thinking that it could hurt him.

A warm hand found its way to hers and she was surprised at the gentle touch. He pried her hand off his abdomen and held it. It was a strange feeling, because Hermione had always seen Malfoy as cold and his hand was warm in the strong wind. He pressed it.

\- Come on! He shouted against the wind. Look at the view!

She did. And she didn't regret it. It was beautiful and colorful and so overwhelmingly bright that her eyes were crying from the wind and all the light. They were above the clouds and the sun was slowly sinking towards the colorful mountains. They were hovering so high the fields under them were just patches of color. Her skirt was flying behind the broom like a proud white flag. It was exhilarating. For the first time while flying, she felt happy. The few times she had flown before she had never enjoyed, but this time, she adored it.

She smiled, and that smile turned into a bubbling laugh. The air was cold but she felt warm. She laughed until all her problems seems to be left in the speed of the broom. Draco laughed at her giddiness, too, and he never let go of her hand. It was the first time she really understood what Harry tried to explain about the feeling of riding a broom.

They flew for a couple of minutes more before Malfoy slowed down and they slowly touched the ground. The blond turned with a smile.

\- I told you you'd like it.

She made a face and smiled back before turning forward. From where they stood, it was seemingly endless. It shimmered purple if you looked close enough. Draco didn't waste any time. He took a pocket knife he had brought and pricked his thumb in earnest. He shared a look with his Gryffindor counterpart and pressed the extremity against the almost invisible wall.

For a while nothing happened and Hermione was afraid that it hadn't worked. But then, the purple shimmers turned into a pure blast of purple and some sparks flew. Hermione took a hesitant step forward and was happy to see that she could actually walk through. Malfoy made an excited face and the Gryffindor could truthfully say that this was the most emotions she ever saw him display.

\- Okay, so now that it works, what do we do? She asked.

They hadn't discussed a plan of action for after their escape.

\- What do you mean?

\- Well, Malfoy, now that you are free, where are you going?

Malfoy didn't answer and looked like he was thinking about it.

\- What are you going to do, Granger?

\- Probably rejoin Harry and Ron.

Draco emitted a disapproval grunt and Hermione frowned at the sound.

\- What?

\- Are you really that stupid?

She narrowed her eyes. She didn't like the way this conversation was turning.

\- What is it?

\- You are literally going to _try_ and get to Potty and the Weasel in hopes of _trying_ to find horcuxes, yes, Granger, I figured that one out myself, and then _try_ to kill the dark lord. He isn't going to be killed off so easily!

\- Well at least I'm doing something! Their voices were raising then, and the sky was darkening.

\- You don't even know where Potter is so why bother?!

\- I can try to track him down! I'm sure I'll figure out a way to find…

\- Dammit Hermione! This is suicide!

His hands were in his hair and he looked distressed, eyes wide to try to convey the emotions he had.

\- Then what do you propose we do, Malfoy?

She lowered her tone and he breathed hard, fingers reaching to smooth his hair, the blood on his thumb forgotten.

\- I have a house in wizarding France. We can go there and get reacquainted with all the news and what's going on around. It's far enough, but still not that far. We can get information and try to figure out what to do, and then, if we have a plan, we can try and help Potter.

That made sense. Hermione realised that her previous plan was not a plan at all, more like a dumb hope that Harry and Ron would still be around. She sighed. Malfoy was right. She met his grey eyes and somehow was able to nod.

They went back up on the broom and the ride back was silent.

 **Draco's POV.**

Hermione was sleeping. It was dark and the house was soundless. The Yukoner Firebee Hermione had conjured was just above him and he had spent the previous hour playing with it, making it bounce on his palm. Hermione. He didn't know just exactly when she had become Hermione to him, and not Granger.

He had actually managed to get her to come with him in France. They would leave in the early morning, and they had spent the late hours packing everything they needed. Draco really didn't know what had pushed him to react like that earlier. Well, actually, he knew very well, but he didn't want to admit it to himself.

He was scared of being left alone. Hermione was the only one he had at that moment and the thought that she might leave to join Potter had left a strange pulling in his chest, something very akin to… jealousy?

A fit of cough took a hold of his body and he tried to muffle the sound with his arms. She had put her hand on his back, earlier, and it had somehow made him feel better. It was somewhat strange that the same girl he considered enemy just a year ago was now his… friend? Acquaintance? Forced roommate?

The bookworm had somehow crawled her way into Draco's heart. He'd never admit it out loud, but he liked her company. He enjoyed just being in the same piece. She was, you know, challenging, but he liked it. The Firebee bounced off his paw and floated astray, gently wobbling in a bee-line. He sighed.

When had his life become so complicated?

 **Hermione's POV.**

Hermione slept well, which was strange considering the amount of stress she was in when she awoke. She had agreed to go with Malfoy in France. Some part of her was saying that it was definitely wrong, that she should be with Harry and Ron fighting actively against Voldemort. Yet the other was telling her that this was the right thing to do, that sticking with Draco was the safest course right now. Plus, she actually wanted to see wizarding France.

Morning was just settling in and the house was already bustling with action. The two wizards kept running around, packing what they needed in the equivalent of two magically enhanced bags. It involved a whole deal of running, shouting and cursing at some things they misplaced. The kind of quarrel they had experienced the day before seemed to be forgotten and the mood had simmered back to normal. It was so mundane, Hermione thought, because they sounded like a married couple going on vacation.

\- Hermione! Have you seen my shirt?! She heard Malfoy shout halfway across the house.

\- Which one?!

\- The grey one I wore two days ago! Have you seen it?!

\- Go check outside, I think it's drying off!

\- Thanks!

Hermione took care to bring the extra potions she had made in her purse. She brought all the books she deemed important under Draco's dramatic eye roll. She also took whatever little food was left of their stay in the house.

They fiddled around until it was about eight on Hermione's watch. Both of them were standing in the doorway, looking back at the house they spent months in. It was strange how accustomed to the quaint, quiet place they had grown. Draco stood beside her as they walked out and hopped on the broom. This time Hermione wore pants instead of a skirt. The ride to the wall was nice. The weather was good and the autumn sun licked at the exposed skin on Hermione's face. The blond in front of her seemed to be enjoying his ride, too, because he was humming a song that vibrated through both of their bodies. They weren't going as fast as the day before but Hermione was glad. She got to enjoy the view and all its colours. Draco had asked her if she had wanted to fly the broom but one reminder of her inapt skills at flying was enough to make her say no. She really didn't want to crash and die before she even got to France.

As soon as they arrived to the protective field, Draco repeated the process of cutting the soft flesh on his thumb and press it against the surface.

They both stepped outside it. It wasn't comforting like Hermione expected it to be. Instead it was a little scary. Until now she always had Harry or Ron around to share her adventures. But now she was going to leave with Malfoy in yet another country she hadn't visited. Draco's hand found its way to hers and she found it strangely comforting.

\- Are you ready?

\- If I say no, do I look less brave to you, Draco?

The Slytherin made a strange smile that Hermione interpreted as reassuring.

\- Nah. You just look less Gryffindor. I told you, Slytherin green would have fitted you better… Hermione.

So they were on first name basis now. She giggled at the thought of what face Ron would do if he saw her. She was being almost friendly to Draco Malfoy and she was holding his hand. The giggling was so un-Hermione-like that Draco snorted.

\- So are we ready? He asked with his trademark smirk.

Hermione looked around to see if everything was in order and if they had all they needed before nodding.

\- Yes. I think.

They shared another look before the familiar tugging sensation of apparition made itself felt.

" _To France we go."_

 **A/N: There. I finished it.**


	8. Plum and grey

**Alrighty! Here is chapter 8. Enjoy.**

 **Ephraim**

Chapter 8 – Plum and grey

 **Hermione's POV.**

4th of October

Hermione awoke to a comfortable and sunny Sunday morning. The now familiar business of the street and the smell of fresh food flew to the half opened window, the gauzy lilac curtains floating mid-air. She mumbled and shifted her feet so they didn't stick out in the cold. Beside her, Draco grumbled at the movement and snuggled closer, cheek pressed against Hermione's neck. Hermione snorted before curling back in the cover, amused by her roommate's sleeping habit. Who would have thought that Draco Malfoy was a toucher? He liked contact more than he liked to admit.

Ah, yes, the sleeping arrangement.

It just so happened that the house they were supposed to be living had been unknowingly sold and was now housing a nice wealthy family of seven muggles. So Draco and Hermione had left the countryside and went to Paris. She had been ecstatic. Paris was so beautiful in autumn. Draco had pulled some strings with Parisian wizards he knew around and had found them a nice flat. It was not too big but of a decent size considering they were downtown. They were situated at the corner of _Avenue de la Bourdonnais_ and _Rue de Monttessuy_ , very close to the Eiffel tower. If Hermione stood on the balcony, she could see it towering over the bloc the other side of the street. Now the only issue with the place was that there was only one bedroom. It had a queen sized bed big enough for both of them, but Draco had slept the first two nights on the couch, before complaining about the horrible back pains it was giving him.

They decided to both sleep in the bed and the first night was awkward enough. It was a couple of nights later that Hermione had found out about his sleeping habit. It had annoyed her at first but it had become something almost normal to feel his proximity, however weird that sounded.

They both slept late that day, over ten. Hermione wasn't usually so lazy in the morning but she felt like her body was made of brick. When she left bed, Draco sprawled over it, a little bit of drool at the corner of his mouth. She snickered at the blond and got dressed in muggle attire. She scribbled a quick message for Draco not to worry that she was dead and left silently the flat.

It wasn't the first time she walked in the narrow streets of Paris, but still, she couldn't help the excitement from bubbling.

Draco and she had wandered around wizarding Paris earlier, and they had been stricken to see that it was in as a poor state than the one in Britain. It was now dangerous to go there, so they stayed in the muggle quarters for safety precaution.

News about Voldemort's troops and plans were not easy to find. One thing they did discover, though, was that they were actually wanted. They found posters with their picture plastered all over the Parisian equivalent of Diagon alley. It was quite comical, Hermione thought, that they were painted like dangerous criminals.

 **WANTED**

 **Undesirable no. 47 Draco Malfoy**

 **Bounty: 18 000 galleons**

 **Deserter, traitor, ally of undesirable no. 06 Hermione Granger**

 **Blood traitor - Very dangerous**

 **Classification XX02 - handle with precaution**

 **Capture on sight. If failure to do so, kill on sight**

 **Last seen with undesirable no. 06 Hermione Granger;**

 **Wizarding London, England**

 **WANTED**

 **Undesirable no. 06 Hermione Granger**

 **Bounty: 27 000 galleons**

 **Ally of undesirable no 01 Harry Potter, enemy**

 **Mudblood - Very dangerous**

 **Classification XX01 - handle with extreme precaution**

 **Capture on sight. If failure to do so, kill on sight**

 **Last seen with undesirable no. 47 Draco Malfoy;**

 **Wizarding London, England**

They learned that Hogwarts was now under professor Snape's supervision, and that Beauxbatons had closed since the death eaters had taken part of the country. Death eaters were gaining territory and Harry Potter had yet to be seen. Hermione had tried figuring out where he and Ron could be, but to no avail. There was no way she could possibly find out with the less than minimal information they had on their whereabouts.

Hermione lost herself in her own thoughts and walked aimlessly around the _arrondissements_ , looking in the muggle shops yet not buying anything. Around lunchtime she bought sandwiches in a little _café_ and made her way back to the flat lazily.

She always seemed to forget that Draco Malfoy, although young and sometimes (often) a git, was still incredibly wealthy. One run at the Parisian wizarding bank was enough for them to get money to live, in Hermione's opinion, more than comfortably for a year. Hermione, with all her knowledge about muggles and their ways, was in charge of doing the groceries, yet sometimes she would buy fresh food or warm bread at the little market two streets away.

It was still increasingly funny to see Malfoy struggle with the muggle world. He, who had never taken a muggle studies' class in all his time at Hogwarts panicked and was easily dumbfounded by many mundane things.

The microwave, for once.

She saluted the landlady, a plump, wrinkling yet smiling woman who reminded Hermione of Mrs. Weasley, and climbed the stairs to the flat. She pushed the door pass the threshold and was greeted by the lilac and cream walls and a cozy living room.

She found Draco sipping coffee at the kitchen table.

\- I read somewhere that caffeine tempers with your growth.

The blond answered with a non-committal shrug.

\- Good afternoon.

Hermine greeted him formally, untying her ponytail and letting the rings of brown hair flow freely.

\- Hmm. What did you buy? Asked the blond, suddenly intrigued by Hermione's bag.

\- Paninis. Do you prefer chicken and pesto or hot pepper and pork?

Draco gave yet another non-committed shrug and Hermione gave him pork. Non-committed shrugs seemed to be his preferred way of communicating these days. They ate in comfortable silence, the teenagers too engrossed in their meals to care for conversation.

When finished, Draco took upon himself to clean the remains and the stray breadcrumbs. Hermione, while he busied himself with chores, prepared some herbal tea with fresh wild tea and wild mint leaves they grew on the balcony.

\- We are going out tonight. Draco dropped casually while folding his napkin.

\- Why?

\- I contacted an ally. He wants to stay neutral in this war but he has agreed to help us. We'll be meeting him for dinner. He'll bring wands for me to try out and he has information to trade. In exchange of a copious amount of money, of course.

\- Why do I have to go? Asked Hermione.

\- Because he specifically told me he had something for the, and I quote his words here "lovely miss who is currently living with me".

Hermione frowned.

\- How does he know I'm here?

\- I don't know. Draco sighed. He's been a friend of my mother's for ages. I think he might have the instinct of a seer or something

Draco spoke cautiously yet Hermione could hear some fondness in his voice. He must have known really well the ally they were meeting.

\- A seer? Hermione scowled.

\- Ah yes, I heard about your… quarrel, with bloody Trelawney in third year.

\- It was not a quarrel. I just don't believe in that unjustifiable and questionable class.

\- Imagine it, Draco ignored Hermione's input, this will always be the year when Hermione Granger, supposedly the cleverest witch of her age, abandoned a class. He added with sarcasm.

\- You'd do well to remember that it was also the year I punched you.

Draco's grey eyes narrowed at the pique. That was low.

\- Yes I remember very well. Though I don't seem to recall that I deserved it.

Now it was Hermione's eyes narrowing.

\- You were being an arse, and you got Buckbeak condemned to be beheaded!

\- But the bloody bird got away anyways, so why does it matter?!

\- It's not the results that matter it's what YOU did to get there, Malfoy!

\- It's not MY fault if the blasted chicken went all eagle on me!

\- YES IT WAS YOUR FAULT!

\- NO. IT. WASN'T!

Voices were rising then, and the two wizards were on each sides of the tables, fiercely looking at each other. Hermione had forgotten how much of an arse Malfoy was back then, and all the memories flooding back were giving her quite the headache. She was on the verge of rounding on Malfoy, and frankly, he looked like he was about to do the same.

Draco huffed, seemingly gulping back the string of curses threatening to seep and took a deep breath.

\- No matter. We still have to get to the dinner.

\- Okay. She answered coldly, but more calmly than earlier.

\- Okay, so you know what it means, right?

\- No.

\- It means you need suitable clothes. We'll be meeting a pureblood of the highest class. No way we are presenting in those awful muggle jeans.

He scrunched his nose as if the idea was defying reason.

Honestly Hermione didn't know what to expect or think about Malfoy. Looking back at it, he had been an arse for most of their school years, to her friends and to her. But since she had found him in his cell, he was like a different person completely. Of course he still had those moments where Hermione wished nothing more than to punch his perfect face, like the conversation earlier, but Hermione was confused. Should she hate him, befriend him more, be amicable…

Love him?

In the first week after their arrival in France, Hermione and Draco had talked about a lot of things, notably about how Draco had found out about the horcruxes. Apparently his house was equipped with a huge library, and he had, by accident found a book of the dark arts that brushed the subject very lightly. Curious, he had taken to deepen his knowledge in the matter. He had figured things out in a manner that had surprised even Hermione. She forgot often that he was her equal in grades. Draco had then admitted that he had searched for ways to defeat the Dark lord in case his family was in danger, but that the unexpected mission to kill Dumbledore had pushed his project back and he had never found one. In the end he hadn't been able to save his mother.

In the afternoon, as they were much calmer, she let Draco guide her into a wealthy looking shop that sold quality clothes. They were automatically approached by a smiling middle-aged lady.

 _\- Bonjour! Que puis-je faire pour vous?_

Hermione was about to tell the lady that she didn't speak French but she was interrupted by Draco's voice.

 _\- Bonjour. En fait elle aurait besoin de quelque chose de convenable pour un diner. Élégant mais simple. Peut-être dans les teintes de… pourpre, ou peut-être bourgogne, plutôt._

 _\- Vous parlez très bien français, monsieur._

 _\- Ah, merci, madame. Donc, je dois également trouver mon complet. Est-ce que je pourrais la laisser entre vos mains?_

 _\- Mais bien sûr, monsieur. Est-ce que madame parle le français, aussi?_

 _\- Non, alors il faudra lui parler en anglais._

 _\- Sans problème, je serai au comptoir._

Hermione didn't understand a word out of that conversation, but Draco filled her in, saying that she should report to the lady for recommendations and that he needed to get clothes of his own.

\- You speak French?

\- Yes, I do. My parents made me take classes when I was younger. That and latin. Why? Are you surprised of my knowledge, Granger?

She scoffed at the comment and hit him lightly on the head. All trace of the earlier animosity gone.

\- Yes, I thought you were a vegetable. I'm just surprised that you know another language than English, is all.

\- I'll be back in about three hours. Please be ready to go by then. I know you girls take an eternity to get ready. There is a hair stylist in the building just across the street, so ask her to take care of all… This.

He had gestured randomly at Hermione's hair with a smirk. He knew her hair had always been a touchy subject. She tried hitting him again but narrowly missed.

He joined the lady at the back of the store and paid an amount Hermione didn't see clearly, but by the way the woman was smiling to her blond roommate, it was quite a lot. He caught her stare and smirked, obviously aware of her thoughts. Wanted blood traitor or not, Hermione had already forgotten that he was still, in fact, a rich pureblood. She rolled her eyes and turned her sight to the racks of clothes.

\- I'll see you in an hour.

 **Harry's POV.**

Harry's watch consisted of mainly keeping the fire going and tiredly dozing off a couple of times. They were in the middle of nowhere, there was no actual way that somebody would see them and even more unlikely that that precise person be a death eater.

Ron and he now had the medallion. They hadn't manage to destroy it yet but they were working on it. They had been camping for a while. Well, camping was big word. Let's just say they were surviving in wilderness. This was nothing like camping. They still had no idea about where they could possibly find the next horcruxe. However, the more pressing matter was more about how to destroy the one they presently had. They had no means to do it.

From where he sat, Harry sighed deeply. Ron was sleeping a few paces away and it was the chosen one's time to wear the medallion. It would all be easier if Hermione had been with them. Both of them missed her greatly but it seemed that it was harder on Ron. Harry was not blind, he had seen how he looked at her, and he was well aware that Ron's feeling delved deeper than just friendship towards their bushy haired friend.

Recently, Harry wanted more than anything to go back to his roots; he wanted to visit Godric's hollow. The mystery of Dumbledore's life had been enough to make him want to see his birthplace. Hermione, he was convinced, would have objected strongly against that idea.

 _Hermione, Hermione, Hermione, where are you Hermione?_

 **Hermione's POV.**

In the end, the lady at the store did a pretty good job in Hermione's opinion. It was dark outside but the streets were still full of people and lamps were gently lighting everywhere. Hermione watched as a laughing child ran amok, a lady running after him. Trying to coax him into calming down. Hermione sat just outside the store on a comfortable wooden bench, waiting for Draco to show up. Tourist walked here and there, and Hermione was pleasantly surprised to hear the familiar accents of her country. Muggles. So peaceful here.

Paris had a festive twinge at night. Something that called for smile and a drink between friends. Hermione caught herself hoping that maybe she could come back one day, when the war is over, along with Harry and Ron. Just the three of them, like old times. Just the three of them having fun.

But where would that leave Draco?

 **Draco's POV**

Draco walked with fast, long and steady strides like all Malfoy men did. With his new clothes, he finally felt in his element again. He wondered if his Gryffindor counterpart was finished or if she was still in the store. If she wasn't ready he would have to get them out and about because they would be late to the rendezvous with his contact. Draco turned on the right street and stumbled lightly in his steps. From the distance, he could see Hermione, seated on a wooden bench, illuminated by the street lights.

Draco felt something hit him like a truck. It reminded him of when she had danced with Krum at the Yule ball. Graceful; beautiful. She wore an elegant plum skirt with a cream dress shirt tucked in. Her shoulders were covered with a gauzy purplish and translucent shawl draped fashionably over her small lithe frame. Her hair was casually yet elegantly half pulled up in a golden, flower adorned brooch that looked as expensive as it probably was.

He fixed back his composure, adjusted his tie and walked up the cobblestone path with renewed vigor, stopping a couple of paces from her while she was looking the other side. He tucked his hands in his pockets and waited, smug smile on his lips.

 **Hermione's POV**

Hermione was still in contemplation of her future plan when something at the corner of her eye caught her attention.

Suddenly Draco was standing there, all smug and casual, hands in his pockets with that obnoxious yet slightly playful smirk that screamed _fight me_. He wore an anthracite English cut suit with notch lapels and darker elbow patches, angle cut cuffs and a classic collar. He wore brown Oxfords to match with his burnt terracotta tie. He was the image of sophisticated and posh, somehow managing to look casual along the way. His hair was perfectly styled sideways, the light undercut she had given him now completely visible.

\- Good, you're finished. I thought I was going to have to drag you out.

The blonde's voice cut though her line of thoughts abruptly, and she rolled her eyes before standing up, the movement slightly uncertain because of her heels. Hermione moved a strand of hair out of her eyes.

\- You look… fashionable, Malfoy.

\- Same to you, Granger.

They exchanged a quiet smile and Hermione blushed a little bit. Because _Holy Merlin,_ Draco Malfoy had just complimented her. The pureblood who swore off mudbloods and all those he deemed inferior to himself had actually acknowledged something about her. It was becoming something that happened more often with each day -they slept in the same bed for God's sake- but it still surprised Hermione each time that Malfoy did something thoughtful.

They walked in comfortable silence until they arrived at the restaurant where they were supposed to meet their ally. Draco held the door for her and briefly addressed the lady at the counter in French, telling her the reservation details. It was clearly a very fancy restaurant. She could see the dress code was severe and that her clothes or Draco's were not out of place in the rich environment. Their table was in a corner near the window, cozily lighted with candles. A waiter immediately came as soon as they had sat and handed them the menu. Not two minutes after they settled, a man came and sat with them.

He was in his mid-fifties, with greying hair and clear eyes behind modern metallic glasses. Much like Draco, he wore a black suit over a burgundy dress shirt. The way he moved revealed a lot of elegance and a practiced confidence. He looked like either an important politician or a lawyer of experience.

\- He smiled at Draco and Hermione noticed he carried a metal case.

\- Hello Draco. Hermione, nice to meet you!

He extended his hand to Draco, who shook it strongly, and kissed Hermione's.

\- My name is Adam Medicius, from the Medicius lineage.

\- It's a prominent pureblood family. Malfoy explained. They've been allies of my mother's side of the family for a long time.

\- That's right young lady. Now I heard that you two were seeking for information and assets, isn't it? Maybe about one certain green eyed bespectacled boy?

Draco and Hermione nodded and Medicius smiled.

\- I can't say that I have a lot. But I do have a thing or two to trade. In exchange for… payment, as agreed.

\- Of course. Draco agreed, you know you can count on me.

The older man clasped his hands together and smiled again.

\- Then why don't we discuss this while eating?

The meal went well, and Hermione had to admit that the food was very good. It was going pleasantly until Draco had another episode of coughing and promptly left the table, Hermione hot on his tail, worryingly calling out his name. She caught him near the restroom, wheezing coughs and all as he was trying to force air in and out of his lungs. He braced himself on the wall, knuckles white as he clenched his hands into fists. Hermione put a calming hand on the hollow of his lower back and she ran it up and down until the cough subsided. When it was over they stood there for a little while, just enjoying Malfoy's clear breathing. Said blond was slightly disheveled, still heavily leaning on the wall.

Finally he stood and straightened his tie, running a hand in his hair and putting them back into place. Hermione still didn't say anything, she knew better than to aggravate the situation by talking.

\- You can go back to the table, I'll be there in a minute.

He said it with his usual rough voice and Hermione was about to object, saying that she could very well wait for him but the blond shot him a look straight from hell, daring her to go against his will. Hermione wanted to stay and watch over him but Draco spoke again, this time softer.

\- Really Granger, I'm fine. Go back, your food will get cold.

He pushed her lightly towards the hall and Hermione playfully shoved him back, earning a small smile and a wave. She walked back to their corner, where Medicius was still diligently seated and enjoying his meal. He lifted his head and smiled when Hermione sat back down smoothing her hands over the fabric of her skirt. The young witch dug back into her unfinished meal. Medicus watched her curiously, hands folded neatly under his chin.

\- Miss Granger, how would you describe the relationship between Draco and you?

Hermione spluttered in her glass and almost spit out her water, recovering at the last second and ending up coughing.

\- I beg your pardon?

\- I'm not judging or anything! If all, I find it adorable, that you two are an item.

Hermione blushed so hard, Ron's hair would have been proud of the colour.

\- We aren't… We're not… Hmm.

\- Oh! Said Medicius with a giggle. My apologies. I just assumed… It's just that you two look very close.

Hermione awkwardly went back to her meal and Medicius laughed silently to himself.

It wasn't very long before Draco came back, looking refreshed and seemingly breathing correctly. He smiled at the two before taking his place next to Hermione, who was still a little weirded out by the 'couple' incident with Medicius.

\- So, Draco, you told me you were searching for a new wand?

\- Yes. Mine was lost in the way here.

Medicius hummed and thanked the waiter as he came to take the finished plates out of the way.

\- I brought some over, so if you want to try one or two discreetly, I'm sure you could find your match.

He told the slytherin while putting the wooden case he had brought with him on the table.

Medicius had brought about ten wands with himself and Malfoy was at his fourth when he found the one who would become his new wand. He took the handle and automatically smiled that warm smile of his that Hermione found endearing.

\- I think this one matches me.

\- Good, replied the older wizard. I was afraid that you wouldn't find one in those I brought.

He promptly produced a smaller wooden case and extracted a piece of paper.

\- This one is 13 inches exactly, with a slightly yielding flexibility. It's acacia wood and phoenix feather core.

Malfoy looked surprised for a moment.

\- It's completely different from my old one!

\- Maybe it's because you are different too. Answered Medicius with a smile.

Medicius had very little to say about the situation up in England. Ever since the death eater had taken territory near London, the barriers were getting thicker and it was getting even more difficult to leave the country. Surveillance was heavier than ever.

\- What about Harry Potter? Inquired Hermione.

Medicius looked around and shrugged.

\- We don't know. Nobody knows. He was spotted in London for the last time, and it has been a while. Now the Dark lord had his minions searching for him everywhere. The word in the ranks is that he's in hiding.

\- And Hogwarts?

\- Death eaters as teachers, Snape is the new headmaster, so basically, you know who has complete control over the school. He keeps his inner circle close to him, apparently.

\- Any word on the situation inside de Ministry of magic?

This time it was Draco cutting in.

\- Also overrun by You-know-who's lackey's. Honestly the situation is bad enough that the rebellion is almost non-existent. Ever since Albus Dumbledore's death, times are growing darker and darker.

Medicius spoke in a strangely distant voice and his eyes stared blankly between Hermione and Draco's heads. The two looked at each other and back at the older wizard who cleared his throat and escaped from his daydream.

\- Which reminds me, that one of my close friends in the ministry had something for you, Miss Granger.

Hermione looked surprised and frowned slightly, once again turning to her blond friend who shrugged. Meanwhile Medicius fished in his case and brought out a book he immediately handed to the witch.

\- So the old minister was supposed to give it to you. It was a part of Dumbledore's will. But he didn't find you so he had it stored. And when he was replaced, my friend had it under his department, and he gave it to me.

\- It was part of Dumbledore's will?

\- Yes, apparently he wanted to give something to you. I heard that he gave things to the chosen one and your red haired friend, too.

\- Harry and Ron got things, too?

She was strangely happy by the fact that her headmaster, a man she had admired so much had even thought of her in his will. She contemplated the book again. It was _The tales of Beedle the Bard._ Actually one of the books she had never read. Draco was glancing over her shoulder and he grinned.

\- My mom used to read those when I was younger.

Hermione flipped the pages and was surprised to see some of them covered with handwriting, probably the headmaster's. She carefully closed the book like it was sacred and smiled gratefully to Medicius.

\- Thank you so much Mr. Medicius.

\- It's no problem, really. Shall we order some desert?

Desert was delicious but the piece of pie she ordered was just too big and Malfoy ended up eating the rest. The meal ended late and Medicius insisted that he pay, which engaged a small debate on chivalry and etiquette opposing the two men. When it was time to leave, Draco assured Medicius he'd receive the exact amount of money as promised soon and both party bid farewell near midnight.

Hermione stuck the little book in her purse and Draco stuffed his newly acquired wand into his jacket.

\- So what now? Asked the blond as they exited the restaurant and started heading back to the flat.

Hermione shrugged and tightened the shawl around her shoulder, the autumn wind making the night colder. They walked in comfortable silence before it was broken by Draco.

\- I mean really, what do we do now? Do we hide, do we go back to London? Do we fight?

Hermione scoffed and pushed him lightly on the shoulder.

\- Since when are you, Draco Malfoy, power-slytherin and pro-pureblood, intent on actually helping my side of the war?

Draco grinned and was about to make a comment when something crashed violently into Hermione, making her fly forward and stumble face first into the pavement. There was suddenly a buzzing sound and the witch felt something drip in the back of her head. She faintly heard Draco scream her name before weakly attempting to grab her wand. The last thing she heard was the distinct sound of a wand fight and then total darkness.

 **I'll try to be faster to update next time... :)**


End file.
